Just as Jane Goodall continues caring for Jubilee, I continue to keep Icky by my side.
I’ve no idea how he got his name and no one in my family remembers either. He entered my life shortly after my birth, while I was still in the hospital, and has stayed with me ever since. He’s been cuddled, fought over, lost, found, washed, and stepped on; he’s gone swimming, swinging, camping, and travelling; he’s been read to and cried on, squeezed and loved.
Last week my husband operated on Icky, who had become profoundly impaired. I’m sorry I don’t have a “BEFORE” photo to share with you (although Icky probably wouldn’t have appreciated that). Imagine a wilted mound of terry cloth with felt facial features.
NOW look at him! Icky has never been so solid. It’s the first time he’s been able to sit up on his own. With new stuffing and a clean playsuit (he didn’t come clothed originally, but a good wardrobe was always paramount in my family so I kept him in doll clothes), he’s ready for the next segment of our journey together.
Thank you, dear husband, for reviving my first animal.
And thank you, Icky, for your perseverance and patience.